Camaraderie
by Klippy
Summary: A heavy ongoing story centred on Nick and Ellis. 'M' for just about every reason out there.
1. Deja Vu

"So you're telling me you never smoked with that Keith character of yours?" Nick queried, lighting up a cigarette as he sat there on the wooden porch railings, overlooking the swamp below.

"Naw, see, Keith experimented and the like. But he never got himself into the habit. Plus, Ma' would've knocked me silly if she found out I was on 'the cancer sticks'."

Nick arched a brow, glancing up at Ellis over the dim orange glow.

It took Ellis a moment to piece together what had just expelled from his mouth. "Well, 'course that's just what she called 'em. No need to worry, Nick, m'sure you're fine."

He glanced back to the bleakness that surrounded the ramshackle hut, "what a relief…" he muttered sarcastically with a hint of good humour.

The nights were growing longer, leaving more opportunity for the infected to attack while the survivors were at their most vulnerable. Nights were a tense, restless waiting game. However, surprisingly, seldom was a full attack launched after dusk. Perhaps because the infected themselves had trouble seeing in the darkness. Whatever the reason, there was very little complaint to be heard about it.

"Reckon we're getting real close to being saved, Nick," Ellis announced, leaning against the same porch fencing, cap pushed up his forehead as his eyes focused on something way in the distance.

Such optimism would've usually irritated Nick, but coming from Ellis, it actually had the faintest ability to cheer him up. If only slightly. Maybe because optimism was something he had been starved of for quite some time. "What makes you say that?"

Ellis' attention turned to him. "Dunno, guess it's just a feelin'. Something real good's gonna come our way, though, you'll see," he gave Nick a playful bump with his elbow.

He couldn't help but pick up on the slight doubtfulness in Ellis' tone. Like he was making the words up to make the gambler feel better about their unpromising situation. He tried to ignore its sobering effect. "Can't be the only sorry motherfucker's stuck out here."

Ellis chuckled lightly, nodding his head. "But imagine we were, though," he suddenly blurted, eyes wide at the concept. "Like, in the whole world, us four were the only one's left. Dang…"

"Dibs on Rochelle," Nick grinned, inhaling deeply before flicking the half-spent cigarette into the murky sludge below.

"What about Rochelle?" The feminine voice appeared from behind them as she laced up her boots, still half asleep. Her hair was tied in a unkempt, frizzy ponytail and face sullen and lax from being torn from precious slumber. Coach followed behind her, dressed in a vest and battered pair of jeans. "You boys had a quiet night?"

"Quiet as a dead church mouse," Ellis reported, realigning his headwear. "'Cept for this real sick-lookin' zombie come crawling outta the bushes earlier. Nick done him with the silencer pretty good, though."

Rochelle threw her attention to Nick, who was still distracted by his, now discharged, duties as lookout. "Think a certain someone needs some rest," she said, trying to draw his attention, "you been at this too long."

He finally tore his eyes from the marshes beyond, and looked at Rochelle with an expectant expression, as if he hadn't heard her. "M'yeah…" he mumbled, stepping around her and her larger companion into the dimly-lit cabin room they had been using as a refuge.

"You jus' holler if you need some muscle," Ellis jested as he followed behind, lifting his biceps and meeting Coach's not-in-the-mood stare. "Call in the cavalry, y'know?"

His larking went unappreciated at 3am. Nick collapsed wearily onto the mattress Coach had been napping on, Ellis on the one adjacent. His body had gotten pretty used to shutting down at the same time each night, so it didn't take long for Nick to drift into his subconscious. Only to be snapped back into reality when Ellis decided he wasn't prepared to let himself, or Nick for that matter, unwind just yet.

"When's the last you spoke to your Ma', Nick?" His voice rupturing the silence.

It was an unusual and unpredictable question, the type Ellis was good at conjuring. "Probably couple years ago…" he groaned, trying to convey his need to be left to rest.

"That long? Well shit, I can't imagine goin' that long without speaking to Ma'. Course now it's all different, what with only radio and that…" Ellis wasn't really looking at Nick. His eyes stared quietly at the ceiling. It was apparent he was talking for the sake of avoiding the lonely silence. It was something Ellis did quite often. "I mean, it's kinda weird to think how long it's been since I spoke to my family. Months, I reckon. Dunno how I'd even start a conversation with any of 'em now, y'know? Like, they'd be talking to ya', so you'd know they were alive, and that's all you'd wanna know…"

"Ellis…" Nick shushed, speech half-muffled by the cushion his cheek was pressed into.

The boy quietened, but he didn't attempt to sleep. Nick opened his eyes briefly to observe the dismal light bouncing from Ellis' own as they continued staring at the ceiling above. His resting body was silhouetted against the window behind, and Nick was able to silently view the profile of the hick's features. A slightly thick, button nose; heavy brow; strong chin. He was an attractive kid, there was no denying that. Nick had unfortunately only acquired his adequate good-looks after a less than unremarkable 25 years. He had been a gaunt, pasty teenager with a bad attitude and unhealthily high values of himself. Those years had long since passed, but his mentality hadn't much changed. Rarely did someone meet his hypocritical high standards, parr from Ellis. Who hadn't reached those standards, but Nick had started to learn to alter them to comply with Ellis' traits. He had almost learned to stop searching for others like himself, and appreciate those who weren't of his state of mind. Or maybe Ellis was a one-off.

The boy finally shifted, rolling onto his side to face Nick. Automatically, Nick closed his eyes. He listened as Ellis' breathing lulled into the heavy rhythm of sleep. He couldn't decide to admire Ellis' ability to alleviate his mind so easily, or condemn his naivety. Either way, the restful sound aided his own slumber.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you heard someone talking?" Coach's voice amalgamated with his dreaming, quiet and distant like it were carried by the wind. Nick knew he was sleeping; in a strange state of semi-subconscious. His body wasn't prepared to let him awaken properly just yet .<p>

Ellis' voice now, louder and more urgent. "Jus' now! I dunno, man, it was sorta quiet-like… definitely a man's voice, though, for certain."

Coach's lumbering footsteps collided around the room, pulsating the floorboards, causing them to squeak and complain. A heavy boot nudged his shoulder and Nick was forced out of his peaceful half-dreaming.

"Wake up, we gotta situation."

The con-man rolled onto his stomach, lifting his torso up onto his elbows with a disapproving crack of his joints. He squinted in the dusty, diluted sunlight that poured between cracks in the disheveled curtains. Rochelle was holding a submachine to her shoulder, keeping watch at the doorway, while Ellis stood at the opposite end of the room; Coach between them. The boy's blanket and mattress had been skidded across the floor in what Nick could only conclude as a panicked awakening.

"Guys I'm serious 'bout this, I ain't hearing things…" Ellis implored, eyes flitting between teammates.

Nick clambered to his feet as Coach began moving idly from room to room, glancing behind doors and into cupboards to ease Ellis' anxiety. Whatever Ellis had heard, it certainly wasn't making any noise now. Coach rounded up his brief search with a frustrated, exhausted sigh, leaning against a door frame. Evidently unconvinced.

"Probably just an infected hiding 'round the side of the building or something," Nick 'reassured'. He knew by now that Ellis hadn't the psyche to allow his subconscious to conjure fictitious noises and hallucinations. That was more his department. "You know how they can sometimes form sentences-"

A voice. Crackling and distorted, like a person speaking through a tin can, erupted from the kitchen. "_Anyone there? LPRA, Ranger Bradshaw, please respond._"

The group stilled, gobsmacked and listening tensely, before scrambling hurriedly to the next room. Even Rochelle left her post at the front entrance as all 4 of them clambered across debris and furniture. Grating white-noise could be heard from a storage cabinet next to the stove, and Coach threw open the doors vigorously. A radio. They hadn't come across one in almost a week, let alone one that seemed to have another person within range of its frequency.

Ellis let out a triumphant bark. "I _told_ ye'! Didn't I tell 'em, Nick? Fucking told you I heard man talkin'…"

They hushed him frantically, Coach pressing himself up to the machine. The contraption was old, vintage- even- and the 4 of them upheld a dumbstruck expression as they ogled the multitude of buttons and levers. Coach mumbled to himself as he began guess-working his way from one side of the machine to the other, desperation and profanities building as he spoke into the microphone with no response.

"The transceiver," Nick hissed, pushing Coach aside to attempt a connection himself, "you changed the frequency…"

He tuned back and forth, watching the signal strength meter rise and fall as he searched for the ambiguous voice once more. He wasn't overly educated when it came to HAM radios, but it had seemed simple enough all those years ago in his physics classes. "You didn't touch the rotator, did y-?"

"_LPRA, Ranger Bravo 7, do you read._"

They jumped at the loud, abrupt voice, and Nick instantaneously pushed in the PTT. "Acknowledged, this is Nicolas, situated west of Folkston. Break. Stranded, four uninfected trapped. Over…"

There was a brief, anxious moment before the response came. Even through the tinny speakers, the voice's tone of relief was apparent. "_TPRA, status cleared. Your party is located at which cabin coordinates? Over._"

Ellis grinned from ear to ear as he watched and waited as Nick and the Ranger conversed details. Even Rochelle had a hopeful smile. Coach, however, remained dubious and reluctant to allow any form of premature excitement to take over just yet. It all seemed a little too good to be true. He folded his arms, a heavy frown adorning his expression, trying to avoid Ellis' boasting demeanour.

_"LPRA. Copy. All clear. Will send an air boat your way, approximately one one three zero hours. Be ready for immediate departure. Over and out."_

Nick lowered the mic slowly, the good news dawning on him moment at a time. He turned to the others, grinning triumphantly. It had been a long time since a smile that broad had cracked his usually melancholic expression, and it was lopsided and awkward.

"Good job, Suit," Rochelle praised weakly, giving Nick an appreciative clap on the shoulder.

Ellis beamed, bouncing his weight from one foot to another in excitement. "Aw yeah, boy and girls! Looks like we just done saved our hides!"

The gambler let out a mild chuckle at the outburst of enthusiasm. At last. At long last, hopes were reignited. His gaze landed on Coach.

"Think we should start getting ourselves organised. Only an hour before the boat gets here…" the larger man mumbled, holding the dubious eye contact with Nick. Coach was entirely unconvinced by the ray of hope that was the prospect of rescue. He figured someone was shining a torch down on them, and his teammates were ignorantly mistaking it for sunshine. Despite frequent quarrels with Nick, he had a level of respect for the smartly dressing con-artist. He knew in Nicolas' eyes that he was overshadowed by the same uncertainty. Nick was just choosing to hide it better.

The following hour went by all too slowly. Ellis was far too preoccupied with his newfound elevation to stop chatting away, and Rochelle was humouring the boy's yakking for the first time in weeks. Coach sat himself down at the window, keeping lookout and pestering his watch continuously, while Nick paced the expanse of the shack over and over. Minutes ticked past all too demurely, taking their sweet time. Their surroundings were considerably peaceful, contrasting immensely against the high-tensions within the building. It was eerie, how quiet the swamp could be when so teaming with undead. A curiosity that went unnoticed on all but Coach.

By 11:30, the sun was high in the sky, and still no sight or sound of the Ranger.

"We should go outside." Declared Rochelle in dismay. "Maybe the water's too dense here and he can't get close enough…"

The rest of the group had joined Nick in his pacing. Their bodies over-energised and restless.

"You'd hear the guy, Ro. Those boat's aren't quiet…" came Coach's response. He seemed considerably calmer than the others, having expected such an outcome.

Ellis, who had been the most active and inspirited out of all of them, stopped trudging around the room and planted his feet firmly still in an asserted fashion. "Ah, screw this!" He announced, making a beeline for the door. "I ain't sitting on my ass waiting for the son'ova'bitch to mosey his way over here. I'mma go find him. Y'all coming or what?"

"Ellis…" Rochelle began.

Coach grabbed the younger's shoulder authoritatively before he could read the exit, stopping him in his tracks. "Ain't no use running off, son. We gotta wait here." He turned to address the rest of the group. "He knows we're here. If we wander off now, we don't know where we'd be heading. Give it another hour, at least…"

Ellis eyed the door, frown heavy. He wasn't the patient type, and an hour just sounded needless and unreasonable. Still; he had enough maturity to compose himself once more. Although he wasn't sure how much longer that composure could hold after an hour's worth of anticipation. He jerked his shoulder out of the older man's grip and retreated to the mattress, collapsing onto his back dramatically.

Silence continued for the following minutes. Not even the distant, eerie moans and groans from the infected could be heard amidst the bayou. If anything, it seemed all the more hopeless and desolate. Nick could see the reasoning behind Coach's desire to stay in the shack, but still, the helplessness was unbearable. "One of us should go out there and look around for him…" he muttered.

Ellis perked. "Yeah, me."

"Guys, we gotta stay put. Coach is right, we don't even know which direction this fella' is coming from…" Rochelle said in her usual calming tone. It wasn't having much effect this time, though.

Midday approached. Tensions grew taught, and Ellis had risen once more from the mattress, agitatedly wandering around the compact area. The rest of them were, of course, impatient. But they had a self-control that Ellis apparently did not possess. The boy's energy seemed only to build, his movements becoming more antsy and empowered- the pressure building. Nick hadn't ever seen Ellis this restless.

The heat was intensifying, also. Their small, crude shanty increasing in temperature beneath the relentless sun. Nobody was speaking to one another, scared that any noise whatsoever would drone out the sound of the air boat. Lack of conversation didn't help Ellis' uneasy state of mind much, considering that communication was the one thing that kept the negative thoughts at bay. By 12:15, he had had enough of their seemingly endless waiting game.

"I ain't dying in this shack, guys…" Ellis' voice tore the silence as he rose to his feet, heading for the door once again. Coach wasn't there to stop him this time. The boy was gone before anybody had time to interject, his wet footsteps trailing off into the swamp.

Nick, Rochelle and Coach exchanged worried glances.

"Did he even have a weapon?" Rochelle asked with a hint of astonishment.

Coach shook his head. "Dumb kid…"

Nick groaned loudly. He had an implicit responsibility for the hick, and if the boy were to die out there in the marshes, he knew that he would be the one to bear the brunt. He hoisted himself to his feet, wearily grabbed a shotgun from the array of weaponry they kept at-hand on the coffee table, and marched out the door. It wasn't that he didn't care for Ellis; but having a responsibility for anyone but himself was something he had yet to accustom to. The kid's bad decisions, this situation included, were none of his concern; or so he liked to think.

The swamp was boggy and humid, noisy mosquitos swarming the air. No sign of infected. Nick panned the area briefly for Ellis, and caught him in the peripheral of his vision. The boy had made a good distance, disappearing in and out of vision behind cyprus branches. Nick began kicking his way through the thick, waterlogged mud to catch up. He didn't dare call the boy's name incase of attracting unwanted attention; but Ellis was considerably fitter than he was. Keeping up, let alone catching up, was proving difficult. "Ellis, you sorry motherfucker…" he grumbled irritably, his shoes sinking in the wet earth as he trudged onwards. A dead Spitter, rotten and stinking, appeared between tree roots; her flesh foaming amidst the neon goo that drained from her gaping mouth. It had a nauseating effect on his senses, and Nick continued through the bayou, holding a sleeve to his nose. Crows erupted from the canopies above in a panicked shrill that made the gambler jump, pausing for a moment to observe the area around him. No zombies, no Ranger. And no Ellis for that matter. Well, shit.

He stumbled in a circle, getting a panorama of his situation. The cabin was still in his view, but barely. He could only make out the orange, burnt-out truck that had been abandoned just a handful of meters away form the shanty. The black birds circled above, cawing impatiently, waiting for the intruders to move on and allow them to settle once more. Insects zipped and screamed past his ears, and Nick feebly swatted them away. At one point his foot got itself particularly suctioned into the oozing mud, prompting Nick's balance to waver alarmingly. Temper was rising, now, and he growled under his breath in building exasperation. The perpetual, barren marshes was a far cry from the lights and sophistication he was so accustomed to back home.

Suddenly, a shriek. Actually, more like a shout, followed by distant snarling and moaning. Nick could distinguish Ellis' wail immediately. His feet lunged into movement once more, following the desperate sounds of a struggle. He couldn't move fast enough, though, the mud was thick and restricting. "Stupid fucking kid, stupid fucking kid, stupid fucking kid," he hissed desperately through gritted teeth, hearing the panic in his hoarse voice. His thighs began to ache as they worked against the sludge and slime, Nick's whole body swaying and lurched to the movement. It was painful, how slow he had to go, all the while listening to the cries and screams for help. He only hoped that Rochelle and Coach had been alerted by it, too.

An infected, to his left, staggered towards him through the thick shrub and Nick was able to blast the creature off it's feet with the short-range weapon. But it wasn't alone, and more appeared from either side. His arms worked now as frantically as his legs, picking them off one at a time, all the while getting closer to Ellis' calls. The gargled murmuring of a Boomer could be heard, along with an amalgamation of common infected noises. It was loud. He had to be getting close, now. Nick's shoe latched itself onto a concealed tree root, sending the man to his knees in the swampy water. Dark, putrified stains covered his entire front, but he didn't have time to grouse as another infected launched itself at him without warning. Nick was momentarily wavered, but was able to get his gun aimed in the right direction and blasted the ungodly creature's skull into fragments. With sudden vitality, he was on his feet once more, kicking urgently through the bog. At last, he arrived at a clearing. A mass of infected had swarmed into a clump, throwing their fists and limbs at the distressed figure hunched on his back. "Ellis!" Nick bellowed, fighting the dense water around his legs as he approached. The mob turned their attention to their victims rescuer, only to be greeted by shrapnel as Nick blasted his way through the horde. His movements were panicky and inaccurate, he wasn't used to being so physically restricted. Ellis was half consumed by the bog, weak from fighting the creatures away with his bare fists. Nick couldn't help but make a mental note of the blood erupting from the boy's forearm.

In the hysteria, the con-man had mistakingly allowed himself to get too close to the horde. He was now equally as engulfed as Ellis, with not enough breathing room to manoeuvre his weapon. He shouted and punched, using the backside of the shotgun as a bludgeon to try and force the beasts out of range of their slashing fingers and gnashing teeth. It seemed the infectious undead had been buying their time throughout the day, waiting to strike in a group effort for when the time came that a member of the team- in this case, Ellis- would make the faux pas of setting foot outdoors. And boy had they come in their numbers.

"Nick!" Ellis cried, fighting to his feet and grabbing the older man by the tail of his jacket.

Nicolas mistook the contact for another infected, pushing Ellis' hand away furiously, only for it to fasten once more to his belt. Hands were everywhere. Grabbing his arms, his chest, tearing at his clothes and flesh. Snarls roared furiously from the surrounding creatures, spitting blood and other putrid fluids into his face. Something latched itself to his shotgun, yanking it, and Nick fought frantically to keep it within his grip. And still that hand on his belt persisted, only the movements were more rational and precise than the others; Nick quickly deducted it as Ellis'. A howl emitted from outside the mob, followed by a shadow that soared overhead and came down on Nick's shoulder. A Hunter, shrieking and snarling, began tearing ravenously at what flesh it could reach. Nick shouted distraughtly, the weight above him wavering his balance, causing him to fall further into the cluster of infected. He began shooting randomly, blasting himself free of the Special infected momentarily, only to be engulfed once more in teeth and claws and limbs. A weight shifted at his hip. Ellis' hand removed itself from his belt and for a single moment, his connection with the boy vanished. Panicked, Nick called for Ellis, only for his voice to carry no further than the wailing and growling that surrounded him. A crash. Quiet, almost intricate, and then the attack ceased. The zombies halted in their assault, their heads to the air, and suddenly they abandoned Nick. The crowd scrambled away from him, through the marsh, following a stinking, acid green cloud. The boy had thrown a bile bomb. Nick lay there, waist-deep in rancid water, sullied in cuts and bruises.

"Jesus!" Ellis barked between exhausted gasps for breath. He approached the dazed Nick once more, using what little energy he could muster to support the older man to his feet. "Come on, we gotta go!"

The bile could only distract the infected for so long, and so they launched into action, kicking and wading through the sludgy water. Ellis was bleeding heavily from his left arm, Nick from just about everywhere on his body. He was drained, stunned and in pain. Walking was proving a difficult task. The orange pickup appeared in the near distance, spurring the two survivors on. Neither looked back, counting the seconds away in a terrified attempt to hold concentration. At last. At long, fucking last, their feet reached solid ground. Ellis collapsed on the porch, panting. Nick swung his body around to fight off what desperate beasts had followed them, only to be greeted with a desolate swamp once more. They were gone.

"Nick… you had…. a bile bomb…. in your belt…" Ellis wheezed, eyes closed and limbs stiff as he tried to recover on the floor.

Of course he had, it had been there since yesterday. He had completely forgotten amidst the panic. Rage at his own stupidity was quickly relayed to his companion. "You fucking- off without a gun, Ellis! Jesus, kid, you- argh!" Forming a sentence proved most strenuous in the aggressive and weary state he was in. He stomped back and forth across the wooden decking, face contorted as he tried and failed to summon his strength back. "Nearly killed us both…" he breathed, watching the spaces between the trees for movement. Nothing. He fell to the floor beside Ellis, gasping for the hot, humid air. For minutes they lay there, soaking the sun-blanched patio in swamp water and blood. Perfect silence once more. Albeit slightly marred by the drone of insects and laboured breathing. It took both of them many minutes before concluding that something was wrong


	2. Agreement

"Where's Rochelle?" Nick stated, hauling himself into an upright position. he turned frantically, twisting his muscles. The shack door was swung wide, revealing an entirely dark and vacant room within.

"Aw, hell!" Ellis blurted upon turning to behold the same view.

They clambered to their feet, stepping into the empty construction. The guns were gone. Most of them, at least. Along with the aid kits.

Ellis began breathing harder once more, clapping his hands to his forehead. "They left us!" He groaned between panicky gasps. "They goddamn left us…"

Abhorrence engraved across his features, Nick turned to him. "No, Ellis, you left _them_." He spat. "We 'both' did…" He marched across the living room, towards the kitchen and swung the door open. It revealed an equally uninhabited expanse. The radio was crackling, still, and Nick approached it. He flipped the PTT. "LPRA, this is Nicolas, west Folkston, do you read?" He released the switch, and was answered by fizzing white-noise. He repeated the words once more, listening to the distorted, empty sound. The Ranger was no longer at the opposing end of the signal.

The boy plodded noisily around the vicinity, searching for signs of their teammates. His voice suddenly erupted from his throat; "RO! COACH! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?"

Nick slammed the mic down on to the table, pivoting furiously to his companion. "Would you _fucking_ shut up a minute!" He yelled, body still hunched in pain. "They're gone, Ellis! They must've taken the boat while we were away…"

Ellis stopped wandering, allowing his eyes to do the work instead. He turned to each window, to each dark corner of the room. He just couldn't fathom how they could have up and left so nonchalantly. Without even searching for himself and Nick? Without calling, without sending a flare? Such was a degree of cruelty that he simply couldn't justify. He found himself quickly sitting on whatever surface was at hand, astonished by the turn of events. "They wouldn't…"

Nick barked with laughter, throwing off his torn jacket and rolling up his bloodied sleeves. "They're only human, Ellis. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

The boy shook his head slowly, eyes focused down on the impoverished floorboards, narrowly missing Nick's demeaning glare. The older man thudded away, back into the living room, using a shard of glass to tear through the fabric of the blankets they had been using. The sound of cloth shredding ignited Ellis' curiosity but couldn't entirely divert him. Surely they would have heard the boat? Air boat's were loud, and they were far away but not _that_ far away. It just didn't sum up in his head, despite it's supposed clarity in Nick's own. The radio's hiss stuttered, and for the briefest moment, the hick heard a remote mumbling. A trace of an echo. A reverberation within a reverberation. Before blending back into the din of crackles.

"Get your ass in here!" Came the aggressive tone from the next room.

Ellis' eyes gouged the machine that sat virtuous in the pine cabinetry. The sound no more. He shifted to his feet, joining Nick in the living area.

The older man had shredded a strip of fabric away from the blanket, and approached Ellis with the cloth outstretched. "Here, hold this a second…" he folded his hand beneath his jacket, to an inside pocket, and withdrew a small, silver flask. The boy had seen it before a handful of times; when Nick would take a quick, concealed swig during their more desperate and melancholy of situations. He hadn't questioned Nick about it, though. The gambler unscrewed the top, taking Ellis by the wrist and extending his arm. WIthout warning, he splashed the clear liquid across the wound on Ellis' bicep. The hick jerked backwards, not at all prepared to be soaked in vodka. Then the sting came. And jesus, it was painful. More painful than the disinfectant they usually used. The makeshift bandage was immediately wrapped over the gash, awkwardly knotted at the frayed ends.

"That should hold ya'," Nick mumbled, frown still very much apparent as he turned to behold what supplies they had been left on the coffee table.

Ellis touched the material tenderly, inhaling through his teeth as his gentle fingers enticed a twang of pain across the concealed wound. "You're real beat-up too, y'know," he said, turning to Nick, whose long-since-white jacket was blemished with splatters of blood and rips in the fabric. The man ignored him, though, choosing to check the ammo in each of the weapons. By his hisses of dismay, it appeared Rochelle and Coach hadn't left them with much.

The crows began to settle once more, yelling and chattering to one another in the branches high, high above. The sound amalgamated with Nick's high-energy loading and unloading of the weapons they had available; spilling what bullets they had remaining across the wooden surface, muttering profanities to himself as he did so. Ellis couldn't concentrate on such practicalities, however. He was still struggling to come to terms with their sudden predicament. It wasn't often he felt abandoned. In fact, this had to be a first. He couldn't deny that it was painful, the knotting in his stomach. His brow was heavy as he gazed distractedly out the open door and onto the dreary scenery that surrounded them, still fingering the uncomfortable cloth that had been twisted around his arm.

"Maybe they're waiting for us, Nick…" he mumbled quietly, eyes still fixed on the greenery beyond.

Nick hauled himself to an upright position, his posture fatigued and weary. It was as if he had aged 10 years in that short period of time. He turned to the kid, "stop it now, Ellis…" His voice as exhausted as his exterior.

Ellis tore his eyes from the door. "They might'a gone to look fer us. Maybe the boat ain't even here yet…"

Nick wasn't going to even satisfy the boy's futile ramblings with his attention. He stopped responding, picking up the rifle he was so fond of and planting himself on a tired, old armchair amidst the murky darkness. His muscles ached. Everything about him was jaded and overworked. What he would give for a cigarette; unfortunately the one last night had been his last.

In no state of mind to take a seat himself, Ellis took to pacing once more, focusing on the windows and door, as if Rochelle and Coach would waltz in at any time. It might not take much to vanquish Nick's spirit, but Ellis' was still very much ablaze. "Nick, I gotta… I gotta go look for them…" he announced, turning to his companion with a needy expression of upmost remorse. "Please come…?" His voice was heavy with distress.

Nick met Ellis with darkened, indignant eyes. His figure just a shadow in the gloom, so far from a window. He didn't respond, his accusing gaze doing the work.

The boy broke the eye contact, attention turning to the floor. He didn't want to leave Nick in the state he was in, anxious that his own departure might spur a radical decision from the conman that could leave Ellis entirely on his own. Plus, he would just feel so goddamn guilty after the reckless mistake he had made earlier, venturing out alone. But Nick was clearly not going to accompany him, and helplessly sitting around was not something Ellis could even consider at that moment in time. For all he knew, they could be wasting valuable moments. He pulled on the bill of his cap, lowering it across his brow. He resisted the urge to glance back at the older man, and walked out the door. Shotgun in hand.

He sat there, watching the vacant space that Ellis had only just been filling. A sound escaped his mouth. Much like a groan, but it was breathy and suffering. He placed a hand across his face, elbow leaning on the armrest. Watching Ellis depart was like watching 3 months of psychological process leave with him. It occurred to him how much he depended on the kid. How much his psyche depended on him. Frustrating wasn't a strong enough word to describe the pain of relying on someone so young, so reckless. In all honesty, he was scared of being alone, despite how badly he craved it when in the presence of others. He was scared of returning to that self-loathing, abhorrent frame of mind. Ellis had kept it at bay.

But no. He wasn't going to follow Ellis out that door. He had made progress but he was still a pack leader. If the boy chose to go against him, then so be it. He was certainly not the type to yield to the whims of others.

Minutes drained by; slowly and painfully. No screaming for help, moans from zombies or explosive gunfire. Nick was terrified of hearing one of the three. He couldn't stomach the guilt of allowing Ellis to venture out alone, despite everything. 20 minutes later, he decided he needed to vacate the armchair. Panic began to stir within himself, further provoking his resentment of Ellis.

_Stupid little kid_. Who does that? Leaving on his own, _again_. Had he not learnt his lesson the first time?

Anger turned to bitterness. How _could_ he just leave like that? Did he have no respect whatsoever for the guy who saved his life just moments earlier? He might as well have slapped him clean across the face, it would have had the same desired effect.

He paced back and forth, arms folded across his chest as his clammy hands gripped the fabric of the jacket. He wanted to punch someone; or something, seeing as the lack of company was the issue at hand. Notions of leaving the building flickered in his mind. Leaving the shack to continue alone, like before. Sure, it would be difficult without Ellis, but perhaps it would be a way of starting afresh? Perhaps he wouldn't return to that dark place, and live a life of vitality and positivity at last. He could've laughed at such a ridiculous notion...

A grumble erupted from just beyond the window and Nick was broken of his despondent train of thought. He lifted the rifle without so much as thinking, and slowly manoeuvred to the doorway. The grunting was loud; the creature must've been hiding under the patio or something. Shit. If that was the case, he would have to step out onto the swamp to get to the thing. Nick couldn't quite deduct whether it was a special infected or not, the sounds it made were muffled by sloshing water and buzzing insects. Still, it was enough to put him on edge as he waited at the door for the zombie to show itself. A shadow moved in the peripheral of his eye, and Nick's gaze was directed to the floor as the dark figure flitted in and out of sight through the cracks in the deck floorboards. Oh christ, it was just below his feet.

Twisting the weapon in his arms, he aimed directly between his shoes, waiting for the shadow to reveal itself once more. The groaning and grumbling continued, quiet and sickly. Nick's heart began accelerating as he waiting just beyond the door, swaying his weight from leg to leg, preparing himself to jump into action. The floorboards creaked threateningly as he took a careful step to his left, trying to realign the angle of his view, the sound coaxing further complaint from the infected below. The figure moved again, squelching around in the swampy earth beneath the decking and Nick followed with the barrel of his rifle. He couldn't quite get a clear shot. All of a sudden, something elongated and damp came launching at him from between a particularly wide gap in the wooden planks. Before his reactions had time to respond, the all-too-familar muscle had wound itself around his neck and shoulder and brought him crashing down onto the wooden surface with spectacular force. He landed directly head-first, which was neither particularly comfortable nor dignified, and the rifle was thrown from his grip from the impact. The Smoker's tongue had not been strong enough, however, to pull Nick through the decking. He was held fast against the surface as the infected below scrambled at the wood, trying to reach it's prey. Nick was fast suffocating, and he struggled for the small blade he kept secure in his boot. However, being forced against the floorboards as he was, it was proving to be a highly difficult feat to achieve. A strained cough erupted from his throat, followed by panic-stricken gasps for air. The coarse, filthy wood against his cheek thudded and shook from the desperate battering below, and Nick could almost feel the splinters embedding themselves into his flesh.

3 loud, consecutive explosions, followed by the most abysmal smelling mist creeping through the cracks in the planks around his face. At last, the vice-like grip around his neck slackened. The creature quietened, and Nick tore away from the floor, aggressively pulling the revolting rope from his throat and spluttered for clean air.

"Ho-oly shit, Nick. You okay?" The southern voice asked, bounding up the wooden steps. Ellis dropped his smoking shotgun and went to aid Nick to his feet, but the conman shoved his limbs away, still gasping for oxygen. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't'a left…"

Nick collected himself, grabbing his rifle from the ground aggressively and steadying himself on the side of the building. "Don't… don't wanna hear it…" he breathed desperately, waving his hand to try and disperse the rancid smoke that was assaulting his senses. It was only now that he was able to get a look at Ellis, who was soaked to his thighs in mud and the makeshift bandage from just a short while ago was missing. His left cheek was sporting a particularly noticeable graze. "What happened…?"

The boy went to open his mouth, but paused, before snorting and looked away with a sheepish smirk. "Got ma'self tangled up with a Hunter. Pounced me pretty hard… knocked him off after a lil' while, though," he added, motioning slightly to the shotgun on the floor.

"Find Ro?" Nick knew the inevitable answer, but was always one to prove a point when the opportunity arose.

"Naw." Ellis' smirk was wiped from his face as he glanced briefly into the other's eyes. "Naw, couldn't find nobody…"

That was that. Nick pushed himself away from the wooden structure, taking a few steps towards Ellis' discarded weapon and scooped it up from the decking. He handed it back to the kid with a cocked brow. "Reckon we should try n' stick together, yeah?"

Ellis took the machine tentatively, avoiding eye contact with a gentle nod. The midday sun shone relentlessly through the canopy, searing heat penetrating the leaves with ease. If the zombies weren't going to kill them that afternoon, the insects would certainly be a good competitor. Nick deduced pretty quickly to stick to his previous plan and wade out the remainder of the day in the safety of the shack; wait to see if anybody were to return. They'd figure out what to do next tomorrow, if they lasted that long. It wasn't much of a proposal, but Ellis was unquestionably in no position to challenge it in any way.


	3. Resentment

The remainder of the day was carried out in bitter silence. Nick wasn't much of a talker to begin with, but there was a resentful edge to his stillness this time, and Ellis was fully aware of it. It was unusual for the hick to be on the receiving end of one of Nick's grudges. Ellis had a habit of cocking up every now and again, but this had to be a new record for himself. Of course, he felt guilty; breaking off from the team was likely the worst thing one could do in their situation. He had beat himself up about his dumb decision plenty. He didn't really need the added indignation from his only companion.

Ellis couldn't bring himself to be cold towards Nick, though. As much as it hurt to be so completely ignored, he cared just too about Nick to allow him to creep into the shadows of his passive malevolence. He didn't want to let the incident separate them completely. Not now, after it had taken him so long to get on the man's good side. He followed the conman from room to room, watching as he twiddled fruitlessly with the radio, arranged the last of their supplies and kept look-out on the porch. Nick seemed not to take any satisfaction in the boy's company, though, avoiding making eye-contact altogether. It was painfully brutal, the silence. To Nick, it was likely only meant to be a lenient retribution; but to Ellis, it hurt more than any physical abuse. As much as Nick didn't, the hick needed verbal company to keep his mind occupied.

The sun lowered and the insects and birds sang in an uproar amidst the twilight. It was hard to hear one's own thoughts through the din. Ellis had found tinned peaches in a tucked-away cabinet in the kitchen. It was the only remotely edible thing that had survived within the barren shack. He had strolled into the living room with peaches, a can-opener and two forks.

"Can you do this fer' me?" He muttered, lifting the can and the opening device to Nick who was sat on the coffee table. The man's hands were at work bending and twisting the back of his shoe- trying to soften the material, Ellis deduced, upon spotting the painful-looking blister on the back of the gambler's heel. "Never did get the hang of it…"

Nick's hands stilled, and he glanced from Ellis to the can-opener. He took it, a little more forceful than was necessary, along with the can, and began cutting through the tin. Ellis sat himself on the sofa opposite, watching the man work aggressively. Once the peaches were opened, he handed the food back to the hick, throwing the can-opener to the side. Ellis thanked him quietly, stabbing his fork through the strangely pale fruit. They were likely long past being edible, considering the colour, texture and the way the can had hissed upon opening. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. He offered the tinned peaches to Nick, who was still at work twisting his shoes. The conman shook his head with a grimace of disgust and said nothing.

Shrugging, the kid continuing to eat. He was less repelled and more interested in the way the fruit fizzed in his mouth; it was an entertaining sensation, though he subconsciously knew that he was likely going to regret eating the deteriorated fruit later on.

Night fell, and Nick still hadn't uttered a word. Ellis began wondering if the Smoker had damaged the guy's windpipe or something. It wasn't until 9 o'clock arrived that the man decided to break his pact of silence. He descended the staircase noisily and approached Ellis, who was lying stomach-down on the mattress with his head resting on his folded arms.

"Look what I found," he said, and Ellis almost launched out of his skin from the sound alone. Nick squatted in front of the boy, slapping a shred of paper on the floor.

The hick lifted himself onto his elbows, leaning forwards to get a better view of the image printed across the paper. It was a crudely-drawn map, consisting of a large shape that represented the swamp's border and veins spanning across it's centre, likely illustrating the routes through the marsh. Along the top and left-hand-side were the co-ordinate system. Half the paper was saturated and almost a third of it had been torn clean off. It was difficult to decipher to say the least.

Nick pointed to a tiny dot. Ellis had to frown to see it. "Here's the cabin where we are," he dragged his finger north some distance before pausing at a long, red line. "And here's the highway. We can take it East and get outta' this godawful shithole." His forefinger then travelled south once more, stopped at a large, empty expanse in-between the cabin and the road. He jabbed at the parchment accusingly. "But here's the problem. We gotta fuckin' huge river passing along here. No bridges, by the looks of it. S'big, too, we couldn't wade through." He removed his finger, resting his arms on his knees and stared at Ellis, awaiting his response.

Ellis kept his mouth closed, frowning down onto the aged paper in concentration. He was thinking hard about what to say; he didn't want to piss Nick off into another mute episode. It was a good few moments before he offered a reply. "We could fashion a'selves a boat?" Ellis suggested, "m'sure there's enough wood 'round here, if not a lil' boat hidden somewhere already we could use?"

It seemed to have sufficed, because Nick's passive exterior didn't change. "Yeah, shouldn't be too hard. Ain't got much choice, either way…" he hoisted himself back into a standing position, folding the scrap of paper into his trouser pocket. "We'll pack our shit together tomorrow morning… get outta here. Yeah?" He quirked a brow at Ellis, apparently in a slightly uplifted mood. Emphasis on 'slightly'.

"Sure thing," the hick smiled triumphantly, flipping himself over onto his back. Nick's decision to break the quietude had done wonder's to his own mood.

It took Nick about an hour to settle down. He was pacing once more, feet causing the wooden floorboards to complain dully. The pair normally kept look-out during the first half of the night while Rochelle and Coach slept, so his biological clock was nowhere near ready to shut down just yet. God, he needed the sleep, though. Rest was something he had been deprived of for so long, it was beginning to have permanent effects on his mentality. But he couldn't shut off. Not just yet.

Ellis watched from the makeshift bed on the floor. The gambler began shifting furniture across to the door, blocking the entrance with chairs and cabinets. He was quite noisy about it, too, but Ellis decided it best not to mention anything. Nick was likely just one negative comment away from leaving him altogether. The man then began eyeballing the staircase. Clearly unconvinced that the upper-level of the building was zombie-proofed enough either. He climbed the stairs into the darkness, out of Ellis' vision. Then came the sound of more furniture being moved. The ceiling above Ellis thudded and shook, tiny lumps of plaster and dust crumbling down on him. It was like the man was herding sheep up there. After another fifteen minutes, Nick reappeared, descending the stairs and dusting himself off. He seemed satisfied with his work.

"Stinks of piss up there." He commented with a repulsed expression. "But anyway, the stairs are blocked-off…" he muttered, not really addressing Ellis at all. "If anything tries getting in here, we'll hear about it…"

Ellis gave a half-hearted, silenced applaud. He was glad to see the con-artist back to his usual, man-of-action mentality. He rotated back onto his stomach.

Kicking off his shoes and tugging the filthy jacket from his arms, Nick collapsed onto the mattress adjacent to Ellis' with a grunt. He lay there silently, observing the ceiling above, mouth slightly parted as he slowly caught his breath from an hours-worth of shifting furniture. Ellis watched over his forearm. Admittedly, he wasn't tired enough to fall asleep either. But his bones and muscles ached. His body needed to recuperate, even if his mind couldn't be left to rest just yet.

"You not mad at me no more…?" Ellis mumbled against his arm. Voice meek; almost child-like.

Nick's expression darkened just slightly, his brow knitting. He continued holding eye-contact with the ceiling and let out a sigh. "'Course I'm still mad…" he stated a little coldly. "But being pissed off at one another isn't going to get us very far, is it?"

Ellis felt his throat tighten. It hadn't been the response he had been hoping for, but it certainly hadn't surprised him in the least. "I'm not pissed off wi'chu…" he uttered, a little defensively.

Nick didn't reply. He didn't even look away from that one spot on the surface above him. Amidst the silence, he turned onto his side, facing away from Ellis.

The quietness just rolled. Empty, daunting. Not even Rochelle's and Coach's muffled conversation from outside the door was there to break it.

"Ah said I was sorry…" Ellis attempted one last time. When the response didn't come, he wasn't in the slightest surprised. He gave up, then, shifting his weight onto his side as well. Facing away from Nick.

It would be the first night in weeks they had spent sleeping this way.

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><p>Ellis was broken of his sleep violently when he heard a faint thud from upstairs. In a state of panic, he flipped over onto his elbows before his senses had time to even work out where he was. They had kept the weapons at the side of the mattresses just in case, and Ellis grabbed for his shotgun. Silence filled their small expanse once more, but Ellis just couldn't bring himself to relax. In all honesty, he was scared. Fighting off infected was one thing, but when it was night-time and you couldn't see a damn thing was another matter altogether. He glanced over to Nick, who hadn't budged from the position he had fallen asleep in.<p>

"Nick… Nick!" Ellis hissed urgently, reaching across the gap between them and shaking the man's shoulder.

The conman jolted into consciousness, shifting onto his front so fast that even Ellis could hear his joints cracking in distress. "What is it?" He slurred, still half-asleep.

"Heard something upstairs," Ellis whispered loudly, turning his attention to the gloomy abyss just beyond the stairwell. It was so dark within the shack that everything looked like a threat from the corner of one's eye. Metallic surfaces glinted in the dismal, violet hue; shadows cast across objects, turning them into menacing apparitions. Even the sound of frogs chirping beyond the windows held a strange unearthly quality.

Nick hauled himself to his feet, donning the pistol from the coffee table. Ellis watched from the safety of his mattress as his companion slowly ascended the stairs, torch in hand. He could hear the furniture grating on the floorboards as Nick shifted them from the opening of the upstairs hall. His heart was hammering. He hated how the infected could be so damn terrifying at times; creeping around in the obscured darkness, like something out of a horror film, ready to appear just when tensions were at their highest. It would be a lot more appreciative if they would just sleep at night like the rest of the world.

The thud, again, although it was hard to differentiate Nick's footsteps from the sound he had heard earlier. Suddenly, he could hear a faint chuckle. His curiosity had peaked, and Ellis shifted from under his blanket, pulling himself to his feet. It was a hell of a lot colder at night and he crossed his arms and held them tightly to his chest. Approaching the foot of the stairs, Ellis looked up warily into the shadows and waited for a shout, a scream, the sound of struggling.

A chair that had been used to blockade the stairwell squeaked, and Nick appeared over it. Thankfully, not bleeding or limping or uttering profanities. He was carrying something, though, in his arms.

"Is this what you heard?" He said, his tone oddly cheerful. He held out a small, scraggly-looking creature. It's fur black, matted and dirty.

Ellis took a defensive step backwards, wary of the strange animal. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but indeed the unhealthily thin and dirty creature was a cat. Despite the overwhelming relief, he took another step back.

"Nick, put it down, it could be infected of summin'," he had to admit that the small feline didn't look at all well.

Pulling the animal back to his chest, Nick looked down at the ball of tangled fur skeptically. "It's not attacking me or anything. Was more than happy to let me pick 'im up…"

"Could have rabies, then…" Ellis continued to mumble uncertainly. He had never been much of a cat-lover. He didn't like the way they bit you without so much as a warning.

Nick strolled past him, the small cat wriggling weakly in his grip. It mewed, but the sound was quiet and throaty. It was evidently starving to death. The gambler set the creature down on the sofa, but immediately it shot off once more, scrambling noisily across the wooden floorboards and under a cabinet. They both watched the shadowy gap for several moments, but the feline didn't reappear.

Ellis let out an exasperated groan. "That thing's gonna maul me in ma' sleep… thanks, Nick." He cautiously approached his mattress once more, wary of it's unsettling proximity to the cabinet.

With a tired, frustrated grunt, Nick collapsed next to him, opting to keep the machete within arm's reach this time. It was dismal, but a faint blue-ish hue was settling through the gaps in the curtains, accompanied by the remote chirping of birds. It must've been four, maybe five o'clock. Perhaps the loneliest time of the day, in Nick's opinion. The isolation only really, painfully effected him during the odd times he found himself awake at these hours. It was like the whole world was sleeping, contented, while he alone bore the brunt of the eerie dawn. It was pleasant, though, having Ellis sleeping at his side each night. It made falling asleep and waking up all the more bearable. That pale, ghostly blue glow a little less chilling.

It wasn't long before Ellis was asleep again; facing Nick, this time. Nick lay on his back, listening to the gentle scuffle going on beneath the cabinet. The cat didn't bother him. Whether or not it was carrying the infection was irrelevant, it couldn't be transmitted to them. Amidst the quiet sounds of the feline came a distant thud from above. Heavy and blunt, Nick deduced fairly quickly that it wasn't another cat. It was very quiet, though. The creature was on the roof, probably, and unable to get into the shack. Nonetheless, Nick couldn't sleep knowing there was something up there. He waded out the rest of that morning awake and on high alert…

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><p><em>*Hi guys, thanks for reading thus far. The story isn't getting nearly enough attention in comparison to my previous fic's and it's becoming increasingly less satisfying to write knowing that so few are reading. I've deleted the introduction, simply because I didn't like the way it so abruptly started the story off. Unless I'm able to get a little more reader interest with this updated chapter, this will likely be the end of the road for this story.*<em>


	4. Labour

_/ Hey readers. There was enough interest in the previous chapter to encourage me to continue with this one. Hopefully I can keep this story alive, but please let me know what you think so far etc etc. Any support is greatly appreciated :) This chapter rambles slightly, apologies. /_

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><p>Nick kicked through the marshy foliage, his feet tangling in shrub and sinking mud. Dry, firm land was separated like islands, few and far between amidst the bog. They took their time, seeking refuge on these small mounds of dry earth before venturing once more into the swamp, searching for a boat of sorts. They followed the map, crude as it was, East-wards. Navigating themselves along the pencil lines that indicated apparent pathways. Nick made a point of not venturing too far from the shack, though, just in case. They had only carried a few supplies with them, and would need to return to the building before sundown.<p>

Having only been gone a half hour, it was midday. Nicolas had tried to organise for them to leave before the heat became too unbearable, but Ellis simply wouldn't consider embarking until he had eaten something. Even if that 'something' had been another, even older looking, tin can of peaches. Nick had made a mental note of the fact he hadn't eaten in 2 days straight, now. In all honesty, he didn't notice it; although he had experienced a few empty-stomach cramps that night. He would have to eat something soon just to keep up his energy.

"Hey, Nick… check out that shanty over there!" Ellis said, his voice taught with fatigue. The kid was sweating pretty hard, the hair that was visible just beyond the rim of his cap was wet from perspiration and his cheeks were flushed.

Nick had always recognised Ellis to be considerably more robust than himself. But beneath the torment of the 30 celsius sun and the sludgy marsh they had to wade through, even the fittest would struggle. As for himself, Nick hadn't even bothered to don his jacket that day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up as far as they could go and his shirt only buttoned half-way. Still, the humidity was nearly unbearable. He glanced up. Ahead, tucked-away beneath a shadowy cyprus tree, was an elevated shack. It was considerably smaller than the one they had claimed as their own, and a lot more run-down, but it was the first other building they had seen in days. Ellis' face lit up as they approached.

"Keep an eye out. Probably a few of those fuckers hiding in there…" the conman uttered as they climbed the creaking wooden steps onto the porch.

Lifting his shotgun cautiously, Ellis crept up to the open doorway. It was completely dark within, parr from the stretches of light that gleamed through cracks in the poorly-constructed walls. Cobwebs and dust galore, but no zombies. He lowered his weapon.

Nick followed behind, keeping watch of their back. Infected had a nasty way of surprising you the moment your back was turned; especially in claustrophobic situations like these. The shack consisted of a single room, and what appeared to be a lavatory tucked away to the side. The furniture was a mess. Tables and chairs had been turned over, cabinet doors swung wide and shelf contents had been knocked to the floor. Ellis began rooting through the drawers and cupboards, totally disregarding the dense cobwebs and muck that caked almost every surface. Despite having been living in a survival situation for so long now, Nick still couldn't help but cringe as he watched the kid idly toss aside a half-fermented rat carcass. The kid was certainly not squeamish. He seemed to find something that struck his interest, because he stopped his frantic movements and held the object close to his face.

"What is it?" Nick asked from the doorway.

Ellis shifted on his heels, still kneeling on the floor, and held up what Nick could immediately distinguish as a box of playing cards. "Reckon we should keep these?"

"Hell yeah," the older man grinned, extending a hand as Ellis tossed the small box to him. By the weight, he could tell that at least most of the deck was in there. He'd have the chance to check properly later on, and so tucked it into his trouser pocket for safe-keeping. "See any food?" He called, returning his attention to Ellis.

The boy turned again once more with a sarcastic fluidity. "Y'know… you could look too, Nick…" he grumbled, with a slight smirk upturning his lips, unable to maintain a stern facade.

"Nonsense… I'm lookout," Nick smiled in response, his mood uplifted now with the prospect of a deck of cards to play with.

Ellis shook his head, resuming his rummaging. He continued to scour the messy room for several minutes, working his way from one side of the shack to the other. It was evident from the squalor that this was certainly no family home. Likely a hunting cabin of sorts. Only one person could possibly have lived there; a man, by the seems of it. Altogether Ellis was able to collect a penknife, a handful of batteries and a couple tins of beans he had found sitting on the windowsill. No jackpot, but it would do. His attention turned to the lavatory.

"Mind if a' take a leak?" He stated unabashedly, already stepping over debris to make his way to the small closet-like room.

Nick could barely suppress the need to ask why he hadn't thought of going before they left. The cliche was a little much for him, though. Ellis reappeared from the room almost immediately.

"Maybe not…" He mumbled, clambering his way back over to Nick. He met the conman's questioning glare. "Dead guy in there," he added, almost too nonchalantly. "Sitting on the toilet and everythin', jus' like Elvis…" he chuckled to himself as he stepped out the doorway.

Nick struggled to relay the humour. He crinkled his nose in disgust, entirely content with avoiding that sight altogether. They emerged from the gloom once more, instantly blinded by the piercing sun. Heat struck them like a punch to the face as they squinted through the unrelenting light. Their attention's were suddenly diverted to the silhouette of a man, staggering through the water. Clearly infected and alone, he was a only a little way off. Nick gave Ellis an indolent bump with his elbow and nodded towards the figure, before turning away and pulling the small map from his pocket.

"Lord, I gotta do everythin'…" the younger one grumbled, hauling the shotgun to his face. It took 3 blasts to knock the infected down, what with the inappropriately short-range weapon.

He watched it squirm and writhe in the mud, gargling and choking on the rancid water. It was certainly revolting, but Ellis couldn't take his eyes away. It was a boyishly macabre interest he hadn't yet managed to shake from his teen years. He had long since lost the ability to feel guilt or remorse when he watched an infected die. Whether that was by gradual conditioning or his own choice was a different matter; killing anywhere up to 100 a day, it was in everyone's best interest to hold back the emotions that slaughtering actual human beings entailed. For the sake of surviving.

"Overalls, come on, it's way too fucking hot. I wanna be outta' this shithole in the next 3 hours!" Nick shouted irritably from the boggy marsh, already a good few meters back into the swamp.

Ellis collected himself and chased after him. He lurched through the water, legs making trails through the green algae. It had already occurred to Ellis several times, but there was always the threat of alligators in waters like these. And christ, what if one was infected? That'd be one hell of blood-thirsty gator and no mistake. He tried not to think about it too much. As far as he was aware, Nick was oblivious to the prospect of alligators. They'd never get anything done that day if he scared the shit out of him by enlightening him of the danger. Ellis smiled to himself, imagining Nick too petrified to step foot in the shallow water.

The vegetation became ever more dense as they waded through the mud. Clouds of mosquitos circled overhead and Ellis could've sworn he saw a couple of snakes gliding along the water's surface. Nick was glancing at the map less and less frequently, which made the hick worry. The last thing he wanted was another situation like yesterday, made even worse by the fact they couldn't figure out the way back.

The water suddenly became shallower, and moments later they were above the surface, walking on dry land. It was a relief, to say the least. They both had long since forgotten about how revolting their trousers and shoes had become, thigh-deep in black filth, now with a lovely extra layer of mushy algae on top. If anything, it was remarkably cooling in that late summer heat. Nick fought through the bushes and branches up ahead, clearing the path.

"You want me to go up in front?" Ellis queried, pushing the bill of his hat upwards.

He was momentarily wavered when Nick apparently hadn't heard him, choosing to continue swearing colourfully as he tore through thick clumps of switchgrass instead. But he soon stopped in his tracks, turning to face his companion. "No, Ellis. Why?" He asked accusingly, breathing hard with exhaustion.

Ellis hadn't been expecting him to stop and found himself almost bumping into the man. "Well, no reason… jus' that, y'know, you're probably tired and I wouldn't mind clearing the way instead. Give you a break and, well…"

Nick cocked a brow, the beginnings of a presumptuous smirk playing at his lips. "El, I think I can handle a bit of grass. Christ, kid…" he frowned, giving Ellis a glare in forewarning, before turning back to his work.

"Well shit, Mr. Gambling Man, I's only bein' considerate…" the hick grinned awkwardly, quickly following behind.

It was a mere 30 seconds before they happened across a small clearing within the undergrowth. The compact area was bathed in light, peering in from the canopies above. Branches and vines dispersed maniacally left and right. Nick was first to spot the peculiar object, tucked away on the other side of the small island, half-submerged in water.

"Hey, look at this," he announced, stepping towards the battered rowboat. It's wood was virescent and deteriorating, moss growing up it's sides. A few planks were missing from the bow, causing the boat to sink slightly into the murky water. The vessel itself was empty, parr from a small number of bullet shells and a steel crate-like box on the floor. It took Nick a moment to realise it, but the oar's appeared to be gone.

Ellis wasn't hesitant to jump in, the boat swaying ominously, and he splayed his arms out to balance himself. "Look's safe as houses," he chuckled sarkily, clambering from one end of the rowboat to the other excitedly. "Probably won't hold both our weight's, though…" he glanced to Nick, waiting expectantly.

Rocking his foot on the rear end of the rowboat, Nick steadied himself, before hoisting the rest of him into the little wooden vessel. Indeed, it felt as if it were to capsize any moment. But it would do. It wasn't like they were sailing across the Pacific in the damn thing. "Still need a couple oar's. Doesn't look like there's any here…"

"Ah, we'll find summin'…" Ellis reassured casually, jumping back into the brown water, the thrust of his feet almost sending Nick overboard. "Come on, we can tow this thing back."

Nick carefully exited the boat once more, situating himself in the water at the back end. They began wading through the swamp, pulling the rowboat between them. It was laborious work, steering the thing through the tangling starwort and reeds. The water kept them cool, thankfully. Whats more, there seemed to be an almost complete lack of infected. Fortunately they were both already touching wood.

"Hey, Nick," Ellis called from the front of the boat, obscured from view. "I've been thinkin'. Rochelle and Coach probably just got themselves stuck with a pack a' zombies yesterday, just like us, and got lost. 'Cuz, I mean, come on; you woulda' heard that air boat all the way from Washington. I bet'cha they're hunkered down in some shack, somewhere, doing the exact thing we're doing… we'll probably find 'em soon enough."

The gambler didn't respond, grateful for the boat between them that was hiding his exasperated expression. He had been expecting Ellis to be past all this. Evidently not. He only hoped that his blatant lack of interest in the subject was enough to put the kid off talking about it. The water rising up his body was becoming difficult to ignore as they ventured into the depths of the marshes and very soon the green algae was splashing at his chest. His feet kept getting themselves caught in the thick weeds swirling beneath him in the stagnant water, sending Nick in forward lurches that almost had him submerged. God he despised manual labour. The heat was positively hateful and the persistent blockages in their path was sending his temper closer and closer to the edge. If it wasn't for the prospect of getting out of this dump he would've certainly cracked many hours ago. Suddenly, the boat jolted against his weight and it was apparent Ellis had stopped.

He gave the rowboat a vicious jolt, trying to spur the kid on, but he simply couldn't push it any further with Ellis blocking it's path. "The fuck're you doin'? He hissed aggressively, the heated situation finally throwing him clean off the edge.

Unable to see Ellis, he received an eerie silence. Even the hoarse breathing was held. And then Nick saw it too. The huge mass of flesh and muscle blundering through a thick shrub just a short distance from the bank to their right. It's skin sore and red, it's form disfigured and grotesque. Grunting and murmuring in it's thick voice, the monster hesitated at the water's edge. Instantly, Nick submerged himself. It would take nothing more than a glance from the Tank in their general direction to spot them both in the water. It would appear Ellis had the same instinct, because upon opening his eyes briefly in the murky river did he see the boy under water himself. They both slowly manoeuvred to the left side of the boat and carefully, carefully, emerged from the water. Only enough to breath in the oxygen. The boat was blocking the view from the Tank, and the Tank's view of them, and they listened to the loud, brutal noises as it moved through the foliage.

"Oooh, _shit_…" Ellis whispered, his voice tight and laboured with fear.


	5. Fear

A thunderous grunt, and then the sound of water being disturbed. Holy christ, the thing was getting into the river. Nick's muscles tightened with the desire to flee; but he couldn't abandon hope just yet. Ellis seemed to be suffering from the same mental dilemma because he caught his gaze with huge, wild eyes. There was no way either of them could outrun the beast, not in the water and at such a close proximity. It wasn't even like they had Coach and Rochelle to unite with to bring down the enormous creature. Nick felt something gripping at his submerged forearm and he quickly deduced it to be Ellis' hand. He listened intently, but it appeared the Tank wasn't venturing any further from shore. It just lingered there at the bank's edge, uncomfortably close.

"Come on," he hushed, motioning onwards. He gave Ellis a gentle nudge and they began slowly creeping the boat along, still hiding behind it's port side.

Nick chewed at his lip. Hoping, praying, the ungodly beast wouldn't realise the vessel wasn't just floating along of it's own accord. The weeds continued to tangle and knot around his ankles and the gambler had to fight not to let them bring him lunging noisily forward. Ellis was considerably less composed than himself. He fidgeted nervously, glancing over the top of the boat every so often, much to the dismay of Nick. He'd shout at the kid if it wasn't for the life or death situation. It still hadn't heard them, it would appear. It's placid grunts and murmurs slowly quietening as they moved further and further away.

Until Ellis fell. His foot must've gotten itself snagged on some underwater reeds, because suddenly he was thrown forwards, hitting the water loud enough to cause a splash. They froze, Nick fighting the desire to clap the hick across the back of the head. The Tank silenced, and then it's muttering became increasingly agitated. The water stirred again as the beast advanced further into the depths and Nick turned. There were no doubts about it now, it had seen them.

"Gogo_gogo_," The con-artist erupted, and they both immediately launched into action, kicking through the thick water, tugging the rowboat behind akwardly.

The Tank let out a thunderous bellow, its arms slashing and hammering at the water in it's rage. It threw itself into the depths of the river, clambering through the dense immersed foliage as it chased the perpetrators of it's disturbance. Nick had one hand on the boat's side, the other on Ellis' shirt as he yanked them both through the bog. In the panic, Ellis almost lost control of his footing as he floundered through the water. continuously being thrown against the surface as his feet found themselves lodging into the mud and reeds. All the while the furious sounds of the Tank behind them shattered the quietude of the swamp. It was gaining on them. The water only reached up to the giant's knees and the resistance was no match for the hulking mass of muscle.

"We gotta get out deeper!" Ellis shouted in a splutter, "dun' reckon it can swim!"

Nick hadn't the spare moments to come up with a better plan. He immediately turned, pulling the rowboat out into what he hoped would be deeper waters. If the riverbed didn't start dropping, they'd be in one shit load of trouble. However, much to his relief, he felt the surface beneath him dipping and soon the water was splashing at his chin. The lumbering giant was dangerously close, now, it's flailing arms slashing at the water just yards behind them.

Nick lost the ability to walk as the mud disappeared beneath him and he swam frantically, hauling the heavy boat alongside. He didn't look back, listening to the uproar that followed behind. The thundering shouts suddenly cut off, replaced by muffled spluttering. He turned quickly to find the Tank submerged, disadvantaged by its heavy muscles and unable to propel itself any further. Ellis was gone.

"Ellis!" Nick shouted, panicked eyes scanning the water for signs of the boy struggling. Only the Tank disturbed the water's surface, it's attention now concentrated on the effort to keep afloat.

The conman kicked circles, craning his neck. He couldn't see Ellis anywhere. He spun left and right in the water, heart racing maniacally in his ribcage. The boy must've gone under. Nick arched himself against the surface and dove, kicking frantically to submerge himself. The water was almost completely opaque with stirred-up mud from the huge infected's wild thrashing, but he launched himself towards the area surrounding the infected monstrosity and searched. But he couldn't find the kid anywhere. The water was simply too thick with filth. Nick emerged again, sucking in air desperately. The Tank was still angrily trying to keep afloat, no longer pursuing them. "Ellis!" Nick hollered with exhaustion.

"Woah, Nick, m'right here," came the surprisingly nearby response.

Nick spun a 180 in the water with such force he nearly threw out his back. Ellis was above him, leaning over the side of the boat, soaked to the bone and breathing heavily.

The conartist took a moment to turn his head to check the Tank was still at a safe distance, before snapping back to the boy. "How _fucking_ long have you been in there?" He roared, reaching out aggressively and grabbing the side of the boat, causing Ellis to take a worried step back.

"Since I couldn't touch the floor no more." Ellis answered, his tone a little meeker. "I'm not too great at swimmin', y'remember?"

Nick let out an exasperated shout, releasing the boat's port side, causing it to rock forcefully. There was no point getting in if there were no oars to paddle with. "Jesus, kid. Gonna' give me a heart attack with the scares you give me…" he uttered, turning back to the special infected. It had given up with the chase and returned to shallower waters, grunting and rumbling furiously to itself. "We're going to have to be quick getting outta here with that thing roaming the swamp."

Ellis nodded, watching as the hulking mass of muscle disappeared into the bushes. "You mind towing me the rest o'the way? Only cuz', y'know, account of me not bein' able to swim and all."

"Nows a good time to learn, Overalls," Nick responded with a stern energy, giving the side of the boat a forceful jolt, sending the hick over the opposite side and crashing back into the water.

He resurfaced spluttering and gasping, arms thrashing at the water in a panic. He was barely able to keep his shoulders above the surface. Nick watched with disdained amusement. Finally, Ellis was able to latch himself back onto the rowboat, clinging to the wood like his survival depended on it. "Fuck Nick, that weren't none nice," he frowned, genuinely upset. It wasn't often that Ellis found serious hurt in the little teases and negative remarks that Nick showered on him regularly, but this had apparently been taken too far.

Quick to recognise the error in his actions, Nick stopped chuckling. It occurred to him that it was likely a fear of the deep water that effected Ellis more than the disability to swim. "Well hey, muscles are heavier than fat. Might be why you have trouble," he smiled, a hint of sarcasm lightly coating his words; but he was rewarded a smug grin from his companion, so Nick decided he was off the hook. "Just hold on to the boat and kick with your legs, it's not rocket science…" he stated, taking hold of the opposite side of the vessel. Together they hauled the small boat through the marshes.

It took far longer than expected. The heat subsided and the swamp busied with the symphony of insects and creatures calling to one another amidst the lowering sun. What had only taken them an hour that morning had turned into at least 3 on the return. Ellis was growing suspicious that Nick has absolutely no clue where he was going. He didn't ask, though. For one, he didn't want to feed Nick's clearly fraying temper that had been shorter than usual since his fuck up the day before. He was also reluctant to hear the bad news. The growing twilight was a hard thing to ignore, though, and Ellis knew the topic would have to be raised fairly soon. Fortunately, Nick took the initiative first.

"I think we should've returned to those shacks…" he mumbled, half to himself.

Ellis' heart dropped. It might've been a subtle way of saying it, but Nick had said it nonetheless. The water's had shallowed once more, so he was gladly able to plant his feet firmly on the riverbed as they towed the boat, but their surroundings were unrecognisable. The dying light had turned the water around them into an enigmatic black, and the summery haze that wove between the trees had subdued to a haunting mist. The marshes took on an altogether otherworldly presence once the sun could no longer pierce the canopies. Faint shadows moved amidst the fog; slow and staggering. It had become hard to imagine such eerie figures could possibly be that of humans. They seemed wraithlike, supernatural and frighteningly powerful. Ellis continuously had to remind himself that they were, after all, just sick humans. It eased his fear, if only a little.

They were silent as they pushed through the algae. Their eyes fixed on the surroundings, daring the spectral creatures to attack. It didn't come, though. It was surprising how easy it was to avoid the mobs when travelling as a pair. As a larger group, only now did they realise just how often and how loudly they would chatter between each other; guns blaring at just about every slight movement; crashing from one building to the next. Slow and quiet seemed to be proving most effective. But Ellis wasn't particularly well-adapted to that style of travel.

"Whoa, stop, stop a minute!" The boy hissed, releasing his weight on the boat, causing it to rock and the water to slap against the wooden surface. Nick stiffened at the sound.

Ellis hauled himself through the shadowy bog towards the riverbank, throwing himself against the curving roots of a tree. Nick could only watch in frustrated dismay as the boy picked something up from the mud and let out an astonished yelp. He staggered back towards him, holding up something gold and circular that glistened dismally in the fading light. Nick almost immediately recognised it.

"Ro's earring…" Ellis established when Nick gave a dubious expression.

He took the loop from the redneck's fingers and held it close to his face, frowning heavily as he tried to recall what Rochelle's had looked like exactly. That was the problem with those loop earrings. So many girls had the exact same ones, it was hard to know for sure if it belonged to their disappeared group member. But it shined, despite the caking mud it had been sank in and the poor lighting. It was fairly new.

"They must've been out here…" Ellis began, excitement very clearly building in his tone, "maybe they didn't catch the boat, Nick! Jus' like I said, they pro'lly got caught up in a mob and had to run all the way out here!"

"Shh!" Nick growled, his attention turning once more to their surroundings. All was peaceful. But Nick knew all to well how deceiving the silence could be. "There's no way of knowing…" he muttered, pressing the ring of gold back into Ellis' dirty palm and pushing the rowboat onwards. But Ellis was convinced it was hers, and that Coach and Rochelle were nearby. He stuffed the earring into one of his trouser pockets and began distractedly pushing the boat alongside Nick. His attention was on anything but the task, though. He craned his neck left and right, as if sure they would still be in the area. Nick could see a tension building in the boy and was suddenly terrified that Ellis would feel the need to call their names. "They're probably long gone, El… we can have a good look around for them in the morning." It was a lie. He really had no interested in materialising his proposition whatsoever. But whatever kept Ellis calm until they were safely hidden.

It didn't seem to be having much effect. "Maybe she left it for us to find, Nick… maybe she's hurt or something, nearby…"

A pang of irritation crept into Nick's conscious and he was fighting to keep his temper cool. "Don't be so goddamn ridiculous…" was all he managed to respond with. He realised his fingernails had been biting into the wood of the boat and he felt pain as he released his death grip.

It wasn't much longer, much to the intense relief of them both, that they found another old shanty. Unfortunately it had taken a beating, and was half submerged in the stagnant water. Only the tin roof offered sanctuary, as exposed as it was to the elements and living dead. Ellis wasn't so keen on the prospect of spending the night on an elevated slab of metal, right in the middle of a zombie-inhabited marsh. It was almost like they _wanted_ to get eaten.

But they were out of options. Night had finally settled and it wasn't safe to be wandering aimlessly through the swamps with no hope of navigation. They tied the rowboat to a half-submerged window frame and climbed noisily onto the creaking roof with the supplies they had brought. The tin surface was a good 2 metres above the surface of the water, so at least they wouldn't be easily spotted.

"These mosquitos are gonna eat us ah-liiive," Ellis stated, sitting as central on the roof as possible and pulling off his sodden boots in the hopes that they would air dry by morning- not that it would matter much. "Unless the zombie's dun' get us first," he chortled, his humour not relayed by his companion, who was lying on his back quietly next to him. Ellis glanced down at his clothes, pulling the wet fabric away from his skin. "Whaddaya' reckon… should I keep it on and be uncomfortable all night? Or take it off n' get bitten all over?"

Nick didn't reply. He lay with a gentle frown adorning his face, which by now Ellis just regarded as his permanent expression. His eyes were closed and his breathing heavy from the exhausting day. The suit was drenched completely from his chest down, creating an expanding puddle beneath his body. Even his shoes had been left on, so muddy you could no longer see the expensive black leather. Ellis hesitated, looking down at the weary figure, before manoeuvring to the man's legs.

"Should really take y'er shoes off…" he placed a hand on the older man's ankle and another on the heel and began to remove the article, before Nick jerked his foot away aggressively.

"El, I swear to fucking god if you don't just… _STOP_.' He snarled viciously, hands thrown above him in exasperation. The outburst caused Ellis to jolt. Nick rubbed his palms against his face before dragging the fingers through his hair, taking a lungful of the humid air and letting it out with a long, tired sigh. "Fuck…" he continued, teeth clenched. His body was rigid in it's frustration.

Ellis had moved a good couple of feet away, knees to his chest and arms folded across them. He wasn't hurt by the words. The exact feeling of hopeless fear was strong in himself as well, he didn't have to try hard to empathise. But the constant bitterness that seemed to endlessly emit from Nick made travelling with the guy a really lonely task.

The man sighed a second time; but this time he seemed to relax after it. His body went limp again, eyes open and staring vacantly at the trees that surrounded them. An arm extended in Ellis' direction and a hand rested gently on the boy's hip. Nick allowed his thumb to stroke against the wet fabric twice; an apology, if only meagre. He brought his arm back to his side, eyes never leaving the swaying branches above. He hated himself at times.

"You still got those playing cards?" Ellis' voiced cracked the tense silence.

Nick continued to stare into the darkness. It took a few moments for him to even _remember_ the cards they had found that morning. "Aw, shit!" he exclaimed angrily, hauling himself upright suddenly and burying his hand into his trouser pocket. Ellis watched as he pulled out an altogether soaked-through cardboard box. The once rigid structure had become limp and completely saturated.

Ellis couldn't suppress a snort when Nick tipped the box to allow the waterlogged cards to fall onto the roof's surface with what could only be described as a 'splat', completely bare of any ink that hadn't washed away form the hours submerged. He glanced up and was surprised to see an expression of humour worn on his companion's face.

"I think that might be a little difficult to shuffle," Nick grinned awkwardly, but Ellis warmed at the lightness of his voice.

"Wanna play 'I-spy', instead?" He offered, only half joking as he returned the smile.

"If it starts with a 'Z', I don't wanna hear it…" Nick mumbled, lowering himself onto his back once more.

Both of them knew that sleep was out of the question. It had to be the most awful of sleeping places to date. Not even the stars that glimmered pathetically above, or the fireflies that danced with their reflections in the water- not even the prospect of escaping the desolate swamp tomorrow- could bring them comfort. Everything just seemed endless and terrifying and utterly _irremediable_. It always got that way when they were left to sit and wallow in their worry for hours on end amidst the threatening darkness. Normally there was Rochelle or Coach to converse with and help break the ugly thoughts. But Nick offered no such relief.

Ellis removed Rochelle's earring from his overall pocket, holding the delicate loop in his fingers and running the tips along the glossy surface. It had to be hers. The ring was solid gold; and as discriminative as he tried not to be, he highly doubted something of that quality to be in the possession of swamp-folk. He suddenly noticed it. The small needle that would pierce the ear hadn't been unlatched. The loop was indeed a complete circle. His heart sinking ever so slightly, Ellis brought the earring even closer to his face, concentrating his eyes so hard that it began to ache. A small, reddish smear coated the fine needle. It was all he needed to see. He placed the gold ring carefully back into his pocket, trying his best not to visualise the earring being torn from Rochelle's flesh.

All of a sudden nauseated, Ellis rolled over onto his side, pressing his forehead against Nick's damp upper arm. He longed to be held. To bury himself into the man's arms and have that feeling of protection. To feel safe, like when embraced by his mother when he was younger; even if the actual security it offered was utterly futile in it's effectiveness. But more than anything, he wanted to know that Nick didn't resent him, despite his countless mistakes. He had never before cared so much for one person's attention, for a person's acceptance. Ellis knew all too well how often he established relationships with others built solely on the need to please them and feel accepted. He was normally rewarded it so fast that he'd quickly forget the efforts he had spent to get to that place. But living alongside Nick, who so _rarely_ offered his affection that Ellis became all the more hungry for it. It occurred to him how much he relied on companionship, and how Nick was so strong without. Would he ever be able to cope alone? What if he, eventually, was forced to? When Nick could no longer bear his company.

The nauseous feeling didn't pass


	6. Horizon

It had taken a while- most of the night, actually- but Ellis finally managed to drift off into a light, uncomfortable sleep. When he awoke again, he was greeted with the rather stifling sensation of being fried alive. It must've been late morning, because the sun was already searing down onto the tin roof, giving Ellis the feeling he was about to combust at any moment. He launched himself upright, tearing off the hat and T-shirt without a second thought. He momentarily considered removing his unbearably heavy and warm overalls as well, but that would've left him in naught but his underwear, and he highly doubted Nick would've appreciated that sight. Speaking of which, Ellis confirmed with a quick glance to his left that the con-artist was no longer laid next to him. Nor was he in Ellis' immediate view of the area. He was gone, along with half the supplies.

The hick got to his feet, spinning a rather frantic 360 to get a complete panorama of the swamp that surrounded the half-submerged shanty. Nick couldn't be seen. It may have been fuelled by the heat, but Ellis felt a panic boiling inside himself. He began hurrying from one side of the roof to the other.

"Nick!" He shouted, feet hammering across the roof as he tried to get a view from every side. The slabs of thin metal groaned and creaked in protest. He ignored the sound though, hurrying to each corner of the platform, each angle giving him the same view of desolate swamp. His companion was nowhere in sight.

Then he felt it, the surface beneath him shifting. The metal gave way, and the kid found himself falling through the flimsy roof. Darkness engulfed him, and although he expected to come slamming against a body of water, he in fact came down hard on a wooden surface. It had hurt, to say the least, but the sudden darkness was far more unwelcoming. The sun shone a spotlight down from the gaping hole above, illuminating the surrounding gloom only slightly. He was in the attic of the building. "Nick!" Ellis bellowed again, the intensity of his voice dulled by the pain from the fall. He stupidly hadn't been wielding a weapon, and the hole in the roof was a good couple inches out of reach when he jumped. The panic began really taking hold and Ellis could hear his breathing accelerating. He jumped again, finger tips just brushing the broken metal sheets. The feeling of hopeless despair edged slowly into his conscious. The attic was cluttered with all kinds of boxes and antiques, shadowy and shrouded with mould. Cracks in the slapdash walls and roof allowed slivers of light to creep into the dusty murkiness, allowing enigmatic glimmers to bounce off metallic surfaces and create terrifying shapes to form amidst the shadows. One glance to a half-deteriorated doll in the corner and Ellis came plummeting into memories of late night horror films with Keith and the complete terror that would keep sleep at bay for nights on end.

"NICK!" He screamed again, his throat tightening with the need to cry. What if he was too far away to hear? What if he had no intentions of coming back at all? The fears that had kept him awake all night were materialising all too suddenly and the weight of it was almost unbearable. A chill crept down his spine, made only worse by the gloomy coldness of the unlit room. The hot, sunny day that gleamed through the hole above seemed a million miles away. Ellis prepared himself to scream again when he heard heavy footsteps marching along the tin roof above him. Immediately, Ellis was uplifted- only for the sheer joy to come crashing back down again at the notion that he could've alerted a horde with all his yelling.

But much to his very vocal relief, Nick's silhouette appeared above. Ellis' legs nearly buckled from the surge of delight.

"Why're you naked?" The man spoke with dull enthusiasm, vastly contrasting the hick's elated tone.

"M'not! Help me out, please!" he hauled his arms above his head, reaching into the sunlight.

Giving a grunt as he readied himself for the task, Nick reached and clasped his hands around the younger man's wrists and began heaving. He knew it wasn't going to be an easy feat, but Ellis was remarkably heavy. It used almost all his strength just to get the kid a foot off the ground. Fortunately, it was all Ellis needed to get a grip on the surface of the roof and he began frantically scrambling to pull himself up. The rush of adrenaline that comes with the desire to be out of a place so terrifying acted as extra support. With a hand under Ellis' bicep and another across his shoulder, they pulled his body from the caved-in roof.

"Why is it we spend most of our time getting each other outta' shitty situations?" Nick gasped, smoothing his hair back and realigning his shirt.

Ellis flopped down on the tin surface, only to feel it immediately scorch his bare skin. He leapt back onto his knees. "Weren't you the one who was all 'bout sticking together, huh? Where in hell'd you go?"

Nick kicked the kid's discarded items of clothing in his direction. "Looking for oar's… found some planks, should be okay…"

Nodding, Ellis wound his T-shirt into a roll and swung it over his shoulder, shifting his cap into place. He equipped his shotgun and slipped his grimy feet into his shoes. He was all smiles to be reunited after his frightened awakening.

"Come on, we need to get moving…" Nick mumbled, lowering himself back into the water somewhat ungracefully.

Ellis followed suit, spotting the two hefty planks of wood resting on the floor of the boat. He began untying the rope that was wrapped around the window frame. "Reckon we should row it or tow it?" He asked, glancing to his companion over his shoulder, blatantly amused by his little rhyme.

"We're already soaked, might as well drag it… not enough room 'round here to use the oars anyway."

And so they picked up from where they left off, pulling the small vessel through the marshy water and algae, hoping they were heading in the right direction.

The hick had taken hold of the bow of the boat before his companion had interjected, deciding it was his turn to take lead after a less-than-successful yesterday. Nick hadn't put up a struggle, moving aside in a manner most unfitting of his character. He was beyond exhausted with their situation and no longer had a lot of fight to offer. Elated with his newfound position as leader of their little assembly, Ellis was suddenly overwhelmed by the headiness that came with responsibility. He had absolutely no fucking idea where he was going, but he was to be held entirely accountable if they didn't make it to the river that day. The position he was in was already beginning to frustrate him, and he glanced back at Nick with the consideration of asking to swap roles once more.

"Do we not have that map anymore?" He queried to his partner.

Nick cocked a brow. "What fucking use is it going to be if we don't have a damn idea of where we are on it?" He threw in response, kicking his legs through the submerged widgeon grass. He thought it a better excuse than to come out and admit that the map was soaked beyond any recognition.

Ellis quietened, his attention turning back to the swamp beyond. Zombies staggered aimlessly between the cyprus trees along the banks, mumbling despondently to themselves, tangling in the overbearing foliage. Dragonflies zipped and fluttered past his face, mosquitos clouding overhead. At one point Ellis was almost certain he saw an alligator glide effortlessly between the twisting roots of a half-submerged tree, but it seemed not to have any interest in attacking that morning. They marched in silence, the algae lapping at their abdomens as they pushed through the murky, stagnant water. It was then that Nick heard the unmistakeable sound of sobbing.

For the briefest of moments, the feminine whimpers sounded of Rochelle. Lost, scared and crying in the dark depths of the bayou. But of course, it wasn't. It was another of the damn abominations unto nature.

"Where she at?" Ellis muttered, his eyes widened as they scanned the dense surroundings. Ellis had a bad habit, as Nick was well aware, of being completely unaware of a witch until he was walking across her huddled figure, spurring her into a vicious frenzy.

Fortunately Nick was able to spot her before such an event occurred. Crouching at the water's edge some 5 metres off from them was the crooked, unnatural silhouette of a young woman. Her talons were held to her face, her knees pressed to her chin, the tips of her toes were touching the filthy water. She must've heard their delicate movements, because her red eyes glowed from between curled fingers and she eyed the pair of them furiously as they crept along through the water. It was clear her temper was rising the longer they remained in her vision. Passing the witch was proving to be a somewhat slow and unbearable process, attempting to maintain the balance between staying silent and moving as fast as possible. Grunts and distressed wails began to reverberate from behind the woman's snarling teeth and Nick cautiously dragged the shotgun from the depths of the boat.

"Jus' ignore her!" Ellis hissed, hauling the boat as quickly as he could manage. "You're just pissin' her off!"

Nick played ignorant to the boy's protests and he raised the weapon in his arms. 2-3 shots between the eyes would make for a sufficient kill; if he missed, well… he tried not to think about that.

"Nick I swear I'mma leave you here if she gets'a hold'a you…"

The con-artist released the stern of the vessel to steady the firearm to his face. A loud, abhorrent shriek emitted from the witch and Nick allowed 3 consecutive explosions to erupt from his weapon. The pale, malnourished figure hit the water hard as she was blasted from her feet. Blood immediately began to cloud the brown water around her. He lowered the shotgun, allowing himself a breath of relief. Ellis had stopped in his tracks too, clinging to the wooden frame as he slowly recovered from the panic. A startling rush of footsteps could be heard in the water behind, and Nick turned quickly enough to catch the 3 infected that had been alerted to the commotion. The shotgun's noise shattered the peaceful silence as he picked each of them off.

Ellis knew that Nick was fully aware of the dangers that came with firing his weapon with so many hordes around; he could've opted for one of the planks of wood to swing with; a much quieter method- or better yet, ignore the fucking witch to begin with. But the boy guessed that Nick was far from caring at this point. It was the same passive hostility that had allowed Ellis to take position at the head of the boat that morning. He simply no longer cared. It was a worrying attitude to have.

The hick took the barrel of the rifle in his grip and lowered the weapon from Nick's face. "Would'ya calm down?" He uttered quietly, keeping a cool hold on his frustration. "Gonna set them _all_ off, makin' noise like that…"

Nick challenged the eye contact with his dark, aggressive stare. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscles at work in his cheeks. He said nothing, tucking the machine beneath his arm and planting his hands against the boat's surface once more. "You pulling or what…?" Me mumbled in his most resigned, pessimistic tone.

With saddened eyes, Ellis returned to the bow. _He's just exhausted, _the boy reminded himself. _He'll be fine once we get outta' here._

The day meandered on much as it had the past few. Insufferable heat, layers of insects and the overshadowing hopelessness that seemed to just follow them wherever they went. To say that they were filthy would be an understatement. Their clothing was barely distinguishable from the dirt that covered it; Nick's once white jacket was now entirely of shades of brown and green. They were hungry too. Ridiculously so. Ellis had done what he could with his limited knowledge of wild edible plants in environments such as these. Kudzu roots, wild onion and persimmon were among the few wild foods he could scavenge over the two days; most of which Nick had flatly rejected, or eaten with dramatic reluctance. It did little to make up for the large quantity of calories they were burning each hour, though. They were hardly survivalists by livelihood; they couldn't keep up this manner of living forever. They simply had to find the highway before the marshlands got the better of them.

Before long, the rivers began to expand. The banks of land spanned further and further away from one another, and the pair were having a hard time keeping their shoulders above the surface. Ellis threw Nick a panicked glance when suddenly he could no longer reach the riverbed with his feet. Despite the 2 days worth of lumbering through the swampy waters, swimming itself was still a frightening concept for him.

"Jump in," Nick said, holding the boat still as his younger companion inelegantly hauled himself into the craft. Nick then hoisted himself up into the vessel, an act more tiring than he had anticipated. He flopped to the floor of the boat, chest heaving with the desperate flow of air. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a brief moment to recuperate from hours worth of excursion.

"Y'okay?"

"I'm fine." He snapped, his eyelids still shut. He was sick of moving. Sick of being hungry and frightened and tense. Sick of Ellis.

He then felt a damp pressure on his knee, gripping tightly to the joint and giving a little shake of reassurance. "Jus' take a break," came Ellis' voice once more, his hand continuing to rest on Nick's leg. The conman opened his eyes wearily to find the boy sitting beside him, his mouth ajar as he steadied his own breathing. "All the time in the world… ain't gotta push a'selves."

Nick couldn't suppress the lift at the corner of his mouth. Barely a smile, not even enough for Ellis to distinguish it from a twitch, but as he placed his hand gently over Ellis' own, his gratitude became apparent.

"M'glad you're here, El…" he mumbled breathlessly, eyes squinting through the ferocious sunlight. He took his hand away and awkwardly pulled himself into an upright position.

"Well, y'er gonna have a hard job getting rid'a me," Ellis offered in return, his face alight with the brightness of his smile. "Ain't going nowhere…"

They each took a plank of wood into hand and began rowing the crude little vessel further away from shore. The body of water only increased in size. It wasn't long before the shade of the canopies above thinned completely as they arrived at the mouth of the stream, the water channeling into a significantly larger river. They banked right before the flow could carry them downstream and observed the land on the other side of the water. It was difficult to see beyond the haze, but sure enough the land opposite rose into an unnatural slope. It was difficult to judge, but it was a good enough sign that the highway lay just beyond the north side of the channel. It simply had to be the same river as the one drawn on the map.

"Fuck yeah!" Ellis beamed back at him, his smile plastered from ear to ear. "So, Nick, y'gonna thank me for getting us outta here or what?"

The older man allowed a grin to break his weary demeanour. "I had ya' pointed in the right direction this morning…" He replied, standing up in the boat and shifting off his shirt. Now out of the gloomy swamp, they couldn't escape the direct sunlight.

"Aw yeah- see, just takes a couple hours with Ellis in charge and miracles happen," the boy continued, arms outstretched to his sides to emphasise his point.

"Alright, alright. Come on, let's get over there…" Nick's sporting humour diminished as he collected the oar once more. "I've had it up to here with swamps and mosquitos…"

He dipped the wooden plank into the water again and began on the difficult task of rowing them across the powerful torrent. It suddenly occurred to him that Ellis hadn't picked up his own oar.

The boy's expression had darkened also, and his stare was searching into the forest from which they had came, his frown heavy on his face. He seemed almost a little panicked; which entirely wasn't the appropriate spirit for their newfound circumstance. Nick was about to give him a kick to the shin to break him from this little facade when he spoke;

"I don't know, Nick…" He muttered, hand fumbling with his overall pocket. Nick unfortunately knew exactly what Ellis was about to say. "I feel like we're abandoning them…"

The con-artist bit down hard to stifle the aggressive response that almost leapt from his tongue.

"We found her earring, remember? She's probably still in there- Coach too. They might still be-"

"Ellis, listen," Nick interrupted, only just managing to damper his vicious tone, "they're not in there. Do you understand? That might very well not even be her earring. You have to be sensible about this; if we go back in there, we very likely won't make it out again. They have the med-kits, the guns and all the rest of the supplies. They're strong together, you know that, they're probably very much alive and very, very far away." He strangled his voice before his temper had a chance to rise.

Ellis stared at him with defeated, miserable eyes. The joyous atmosphere had been forgotten so fast it may as well not have happened. He took his hand away from his pocket and turned his attention to his shoes. The silence rolled uneasily, but Nick daren't say another word until Ellis picked that damn oar up again. They didn't look at one another, Nick opting for the view of the land beyond the river and Ellis' fixated on his footwear. It was a good 2 minutes before the boy let out a suffering sigh and brought a filthy hand to his face as he wiped at his cheek. He took the plank of wood in hand and thrust the end of it into the river.

His attention turned briefly to his partner, "alright, I wanna get out of here…" before he began rowing.

Nick gave the kid a good humoured nudge with his shoe, enough to get the boy to break a hint of a smirk, before joining in the effort to paddle their asses out of the marshes and into open land


End file.
